


Cauterize

by enkiduu



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 14:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduu/pseuds/enkiduu
Summary: Tony gulps in lungfuls of air, staring hard at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes are his own right now, molten copper no longer covered by a cloud of purple, but this does nothing to stave off the fear that’s corroding his mind.Steve crying? That’s just... wrong. It doesn’t happen. Shouldn’t.





	Cauterize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ironlawyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironlawyer/gifts).



_“This isn’t you.”_

*

Tony gasps awake. 

The nightmare isn’t over. The Purple Man’s gone, but Tony is still here. 

“Lights, a hundred,” he rasps, scrambling towards the washroom. He reaches for his RT but finds no relief. This time the problem isn’t tech related, it’s mind related, and Tony has only ever been able to fix one of those things. 

Steve was crying. 

The sudden light hurts his eyes, afterimages leaving spots in his vision, but they aren’t enough to blotch out what he's seeing. Forgotten things. Why can’t he process those flashes of memories? Is he—

_Make him remember._

No... He needs to make sure. He doesn’t like looking at his reflection, but he needs to know if he’s in control right now because he doesn’t fucking feel it.

“Sir,” JARVIS begins, sounding concerned. 

“Yeah. Just—give me a sec,” Tony breathes, feeling sick with the aftertaste of gunpowder in his mouth. Even though he wasn’t the one to pull the trigger, he’s the one who’d made all the fucking guns, and now his memory is recollecting the bullets one by one. 

He’s always been the best at making weapons. 

“Scans show that you are not currently under the Purple Man’s control, sir,” JARVIS informs him. 

Tony gulps in lungfuls of air, staring hard at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes are his own right now, molten copper no longer covered by a cloud of purple, but this does nothing to stave off the fear that’s corroding his mind. 

Steve crying? That’s just... wrong. It doesn’t happen. Shouldn’t.

“Yeah. Okay. Okay, thanks, J,” Tony manages. At least JARVIS is here to deal with Tony again if necessary. It’s not enough to settle his racing pulse, but at least he can’t get anywhere with JARVIS monitoring him. Not this time, now that JARVIS knows that could be a threat. That Tony is a threat. The countermeasures have always been there, dialed up now. 

The others all reported having hazy memories following the mind control, like it was all a dream that has quickly faded upon awakening. JARVIS isn’t the only one with missing time. 

“Sir, the Purple Man altered your brain waves,” JARVIS continues. “What transpired was—”

JARVIS’ voice fizzles out into static, Tony’s mind tuning back into the past. 

_This is all on you, Tony._

Tony flinches. He runs his hands in water, splashes it on his face. It’s cold. It needs to be colder. “You know me better than to say that, J,” Tony says, and is thankful that JARVIS remains silent at that. 

Steve doesn’t blame him, but that does not mean he hasn’t done something awful. 

_Take what you want, Tony. You want it all, don’t you always? You don’t care how people feel._

He did something even worse than what he remembers, and he already remembers ruling the world, remembers no one being able to tell him _no_.

What has Tony always wanted? He’s slipping back into the nightmare, the scenes becoming more vivid and the sensations clearer. His stomach clenches. Oh. 

_Do all the things you’ve been holding back._

Everything tastes purple. Even iron rusts. Even soldiers break. But why? Why why whyohgod 

Why did Steve—

* 

Night falls. It belongs to Tony now, safe for all those who once feared it. Now, fear implies guilt. 

Tony waits for Steve to come to him. Steve always goes where he is needed, after all. Tony is hoping he will see reason, will choose Tony over what ridiculous notions he may be holding onto, but with the way he breaks into the building and frowns behind his cowl, Tony doesn’t think that will happen. 

But Steve isn’t here for him, barely even looks at Tony before he throws his shield at the Purple Man. Tony frowns and flies to jump on the shield, slamming it down to the floor with a loud bang. He picks it up and narrows his eyes, then tilts his head to the side. 

“Steve. You’re late for dinner.” 

“Iron Man,” Steve calls out. “You have to shake off the Purple Man’s influence. It can be done.”

_You won’t. Why would you? He betrayed you. He stopped following your orders. You’re hurt, aren’t you?_

Tony’s eyes flash darkly. He has never given his trust freely. He doesn’t like to be betrayed, he never expected that from Steve. They were so happy, and now Steve doesn’t want that? He chooses a broken world over a better one with Tony? 

“I guess it was that easy for you to shake me off too, huh. Y’know what, I think I’m fine with being happy for once, Steve.” 

Steve’s eyes widen. He stares, then growls, “The Purple Man,” glaring behind Tony, and he’s not desperate, not yet, just angry, still thinks he has mind control to blame. 

Stop looking away. Look at me, Tony thinks. He walks closer. “I fixed the world, you said it yourself. Did you lie to me,” he says softly. 

If Steve hates, Tony would rather Steve hate Tony than have it wasted on the Purple Man. 

That makes Steve’s eyes snap onto Tony. “No—“ he denies automatically, then cuts himself off like he realizes yeah, it is a lie. It’s all a lie. “Tony. Move.” 

This, too, is a lie. 

Tony frowns, head throbbing. “Steve?” 

A hiss. _Don’t, or you’ll lose him. Forever._

(Steve’s eyes flicker to where the Purple Man is grinning, glee in his eyes, murderous. A threat, directed at both of them. How much control does the Purple Man have over Tony? What if throwing Tony hors de combat results in consequences graver than what he can accept?) 

Fear drives Tony to focus on what he can’t lose. 

“Iron Man, are you there? Tony—“

“What happened to following my orders, Cap,” Tony wonders. “You were so good at it. My soldier. _Mine._ ” 

Steve freezes, shocked at the possessiveness, before he takes a breath and steels his expression. Tony is close enough to see his pupils dilate. Steve has always been good at taking blows, but he can’t roll with a punch that he doesn’t expect. “Tony… they’re not your orders,” he tells him. “You don’t want this. You can’t. This isn’t you.” 

“You don’t know what I want,” Tony says, words fusing with a surge of bitterness, “you really don't.” 

Steve doesn’t seem to want to believe that. “This is the Purple Man talking—” 

“Oh, yeah. Cute, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Tony cuts in. It feels good to surprise Captain America. “Of course it’s all me. He gave me a little nudge to start my plans, that’s all. The Purple Man is nowhere near smart enough to orchestrate any of this.” He waves a dismissive hand. “C’mon. You really think anyone else can fix the world in less than a week? The Purple Man has had his magic tricks for how long now? If he could’ve, he would’ve done it without me.” 

“This is not fixing,” Steve says. “You knew that.” 

There’s a grumble of annoyance. _Fine. Make Steve Rogers know this is you, Tony. Show him what you’re hiding. You’ve always wanted to be truthful to him, haven’t you?_

“What…” 

Tony lets his suit slide off him, metal peeling off to reveal his sleek black underarmor. He sends the armor to protect the Purple Man. He smiles, putting his hand on Steve’s chest, murmurs, “I want you. What do you want?” and pinpoints the exact moment when the words crush Steve, because Steve inhales painfully as if he’s got a punctured lung. 

Steve’s hand darts up to grasp Tony’s arm immediately, but he doesn’t grip too hard. They’ve sparred, they’ve fought, with and against each other. Steve knows that Tony is hardly fragile—but he also knows that Tony is breakable, not invincible. Saying something does not make it so. He’s seen Tony fall. 

It’s not like Tony can go back now, even if he wants to. Which he doesn’t. 

“What. Were you really here to fight me?” Disappointment drips from his voice. “That explains the shield.” 

“Tony,” Steve says, and the Captain America voice is still going strong but he can’t hide his distress. He can’t hide that he knows exactly where this is going, he’s clever and they know each other too well for him to not guess. “I know this isn’t you. I believe in you.” 

Annoyance flares inside Tony. But it’s fine. He’ll just show Steve that this Tony is the better choice. Freedom isn’t worth death. Nothing is worth death. Tony had been a coward to let it happen, let the world break when all he ever had to do was close his hands and grasp the solution that’s been right in his head all along. 

“No. I’m out here, for once. This is me. All. Of. Me. See?” Tony licks his lips and smiles wide, all glittering teeth. His eyes glow purple. “ _No masks_ ,” he says, and pulls Steve’s cowl off, sliding his fingers gently through his beautiful blond hair. He hands the shield back to Steve and offers, “Knock me out. Maybe even kill me—there’s a thought. Do you think you can do that?” 

Steve jerks back and he opens his mouth to speak, stunned, but Tony doesn’t let him, holding him there with a hand gripping his neck, leaning up to press their lips together. Steve makes a wounded noise, dropping the shield with a clang, opening his mouth, and someone in the room laughs, laughs, and Tony thinks that might be him, too. 

_Tell him how you feel. Make him remember._

“Steve. I’ve wanted you for a long time,” Tony breathes, smiles so hard it hurts, words he’s dreamt of spilling from his lips, “so long. But imagination is nothing compared to the real thing.” He leans forward and searches for friction, grinding against Steve and moaning, kissing Steve’s neck. He’s already hard and he knows Steve can feel the bulge against his thigh. Steve makes a wrecked noise in the back of his throat. 

_You’re so easy to control because this is all you’ve ever wanted, isn’t it? You should be thanking me._

Pleasure is easy. Tony doesn’t want to think about the rest. 

“Is this what you want to do? Like this?” There’s tight anger, there. Like it might be Tony’s fault for ruining them, when Steve’s the stubborn one who won’t just surrender. It’s fine. Tony wants to show him. 

“Tony. _Tony_.” Steve grips both Tony’s wrists, stopping him from touching, but his usually firm grip is slightly shaky. 

Tony laughs a little, breath hot at the hollow of Steve’s neck. He shakes his head. Damn it. The pleading note in Steve’s voice rattles him more than he enjoys it. “Please what? If you don’t want me, then fight back. You’re strong enough, aren’t you.” 

_Don’t hold back now,_ goes the voice that resounds in his head, and it’s right. _If you stop now, you won’t get him ever again. Although… if he stops you, he hates you. You’ll believe that, Tony. Whatever will you do then?_

“How dare you—I can’t. Don’t twist this,” Steve snarls, and there is loathing and anger tangled in his voice, loud in Tony’s ears, and oh, that stings, but that’s good. Steve feels so much for Tony. Steve draws in a steadying breath. His next words grate with worry, sounding almost like a confession, “I don’t hate you, Tony.” 

He probably should (he couldn’t). 

“Fight back, then,” Tony tells him. “If you don’t want this. Don’t want me.”

(Oh, God. What if Tony never turns back?) 

“Tony...” Hands are coming around him in some sort of embrace, and this is a hug, not fighting, this is warmth, not ice. This is Steve’s voice cracking in a promise, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Tony draws back so he can see Steve’s expression. He reads pain there and wants to write pleasure on Steve’s body, code it into his bones so he will always remember Tony. 

“The others are on the way, we’ll figure out a way to fix this. Just let me get to the Purple Man, we can talk after.”

“No,” Tony snaps. His eyes are wet and he sees a blurry world. 

But this is a better world. He gets to have Steve in this world and there’s no war, Tony doesn’t have to be scared they’ll be on different sides. 

“Let me make you feel good. I want this. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had, nobody wants you more than I do,” he says, palming Steve through his uniform. Steve gasps, face crumbling, eyes sliding shut for a moment. “I’m never going to forget this either, Steve—”

Steve doesn’t cry, but there’s a first for everything. 

*

This isn’t fighting him off. 

Tony chokes on his sobs. “Nonono,” he moans, trying to block out the terrible arousal but it’s there, colored black with strokes of fear and guilt. Shame and desire heat his blood, because the problem is none of what he’s done or said was a lie. It’s all true. He squeezes his eyes shut and sits down on the floor, leaning against the wall that cruelly doesn’t swallow him up. 

In the edge of his vision, he can still see his own reflection, still hear his laughter mixing with Steve’s moans. 

*

Tony kisses Steve again, and this time Steve kisses back, opening his mouth and meeting Tony’s tongue. Tony continues rutting against Steve, hands moving greedily to touch more, fingers hooking in Steve’s pants. 

Steve gasps when Tony’s fingers wrap around his cock, stroking quickly and squeezing lightly. “I can’t believe you’ve wanted this. Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asks hoarsely. 

“Too much to lose,” Tony replies smoothly. He leans up to kiss Steve again, roughly, and he thinks one of them has drawn blood, like copper, like rust. “Why would I risk it? But it’s fine. I have you now.” 

(Where is Thor? Where are the others, they need to be here to disable the Purple Man, they need to figure out a way to do it without hurting Tony—) 

“You don’t need to do what you’re doing right now to have me.” 

“You’re not touching me, don’t think I don’t know how you feel,” Tony says. It only stings a bit, the offense lessened by how tight his underarmor is. “But it’s alright. You won’t change what I feel. You could never.” 

Steve‘s breath hitches, and Tony sees desire flutter past Steve’s expression. “Just stop talking, please,” he rasps. “If you’re going to do this, just stop talking.” 

“Stop talking about everything we could have if you come back?” Tony asks. “We can rebuild the world together. Oh… I’ll let you fuck me, stretch me open with your dick.” He moans shamelessly at the thought. “Yeah. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Just come home to me.” 

Steve grits his teeth, thrusting into Tony’s hand despite the visible effort to not do so. When he spills, he holds Tony close and lets Tony rub against him, and he looks like Tony has stabbed him when Tony takes his hand and licks it clean and comes without being touched. 

*

Tony lies there on the ground, eyes shut. He stays there for the rest of the night, for hours, each moment wasted rotting him, but he just can’t get up without sobbing, until he finally drags himself up when the sun peaks in through the windows. He takes a shower, longer than he deserves, it’s not like it can really clean anything, and exits his quarters. He checks his eyes in the mirror one last time, but it’s probably not the last. 

He sees himself smile back at him, sharp and cruel, and he wonders if this is what he looks like to the world. 

The reflection grins and says, _it was good, wasn’t it?_

“Not real,” Tony tells it, because that’s better than saying yes or no. He’s always been better than Steve at lying, maybe he can believe himself this time. He supposed that doesn’t matter, though. As long as he convinces Steve. 

Hm. If Steve does remember everything, then he is a better liar than Tony gave him credit for. Or maybe it’s been willful ignorance on Tony’s part. 

He’ll have to find Steve. Maybe in the morning when Steve wakes up, Tony will be able to fix things. 

*

“You’ve fixed the world, Iron Man,” Captain America says, proud, and they look at the skies. Energy crackles, purple spreads. It’s all theirs. 

Delighted, Iron Man says, honest as he’s ever been, “For you.”

*

He sends Steve a message to meet him on the rooftop. He can’t stop pacing around. Morning has risen, the city bright and awake. 

Tony sees everything more clearly now. He’s had time to think about everything. 

He has taken the iron from his blood and made a suit, armor that is supposed to protect and not attack, but it was only ever supposed to be from his own blood, not from others. The world shouldn’t have had to pay. The armor shouldn’t have to protect the world from himself. 

He can’t remember how exactly they got Tony to wake up. It might involve Clint and an arrow. He supposes it doesn’t matter. 

Only thing that matters is if Steve remembers. Find that out, first. And then, well. Do what he has to do. 

“It’ll take some time. Everything I did, I’ll fix,” Tony begins, and is incredibly aware that this is what he’s been trying to do for a long time. “But it’ll never be enough,” he adds, quiet. Never. 

“It wasn’t you,” Steve says immediately, and the words elicit a tingly sense of déjà vu, like a whisper scratching against the door of Tony’s mind. It’s not loud enough for Tony to listen. It wasn’t enough the last time. Why’s Steve still trying now?

“You know that’s not true,” Tony says. With a frown, he turns to look at Steve, who looks tired, too. He doesn’t need as much sleep as the rest of them, but Tony doesn’t like seeing him losing it. Now he knows exactly why. “It was all ideas _I_ had.” 

Disgust is purple, like a disease that has rusted his outsides and dragged his insides out.

That is what happened, isn’t it? 

The whole world has seen what is inside Tony, and Steve got front-row seats. No… he was forced to play a role he never wanted. 

“I’m a futurist,” Tony says. “I wanted to build a future, but was that the kind of future I’ve been building?” Broken and hollow and dark. He shakes his head. 

Discomfort shadows Steve’s expression. “He warped that.” 

“It was already warped to begin with. Face it. Yeah. I ended war by ending peace.” His definition of better was so, so wrong. “I’ve always been the best at making weapons. I’m even better at being one.” 

_Oh, Tony Stark. I don’t even need to tell you to destroy the world, do I? You break things all on your own._

“That’s not—You’re not the only weapon. He forced you, and all of us, to believe it was a good idea, but you knew it wasn’t. That’s why you never do anything like that when you’re you,” Steve reasons. “You’re a good man. And we’re the Avengers, we stick together. If one of us falls, we catch them. If you fall, I’ll catch you.”

Tony wishes Steve won’t try to catch Tony when he’s falling. “Still. It was mine, and I thought about it.” He glances at Steve, exhaustion tinged with growing fear, because how does Steve not see the problem with what had happened? “A lot more than I should’ve.” 

“That proves that you’re strong enough to resist it.”

“Does it matter? I thought about it enough that it took me only three days to subjugate the entire world,” Tony says, thinking of all the ideas he had tried to kill in his mind, let them die stillborn, but ideas can’t be killed, they aren’t alive, they’re death. “Three days. And there was a lot more to come, Cap.” 

Time seems to be something Steve can’t argue with. He looks stricken, and there is a flare of anger, maybe out of the fact that Tony hadn’t shared all his ideas with mind controlled Steve. Or maybe he’s angry at himself for trusting Tony so much. 

This is all very messed up. Steve is the one comforting Tony, and not the other way around. Tony’s lips curve up wryly, but he can’t maintain the empty smile for long, not around Steve who looks pained, brows drawn together. Tony has that effect on the people around him. He grimaces and puts a hand to his head. 

“Tony?” Steve asks, worry sharp in his voice. “Purple Man had you under his control,” he says firmly, and he clearly knows what happened, otherwise he wouldn’t stress his belief that Tony isn’t to blame. He would've wanted Tony to find out what time he’s missing. God. Steve remembers. Tony wants to kiss Steve. He wants to hide. “Mind control messes with the mind, it makes you not yourself. That’s the point, he’s gotten in your mind. Don’t let him.” 

“He had you under mind control, too,” Tony points out quietly. “All of you broke free from his orders, except me.” He shakes his head. “From _my_ orders,” he amends, then laughs faintly. This isn’t the time for comfort. “You were really good at following my orders, Cap.” 

Steve stiffens, then says, “You tried, I know you did.” 

True. If Tony really wanted, he’d probably have been an even worse villain. There was probably residual loyalty to whatever was right, to Steve. Tony doesn’t know what to do with that. 

It’s true, anyway. 

“It doesn’t matter how hard I tried,” Tony says. Steve is trying so hard. It’s not like he wasn’t there to see Tony execute his darker ideas. “It wasn’t enough. Or it was too much.” He mentally reminds himself to send Steve new override codes. 

Being sorry isn’t enough. It simply can’t happen again. 

“It’s good that you’re here to stop me, right?” Tony asks. “You know, I appreciate it. You, pretending it didn’t happen when it did.” 

“When what?”

Tony stares at Steve bleakly. “Well, if wasn’t like you could consent. Who knew what else I might’ve done?”

(Tony could’ve died, could’ve stayed evil. Steve couldn’t risk that, not when there was still more he could’ve done.)

“No. I don’t blame you, Tony. I could’ve stopped you.” Such determination. “It wasn’t you.”

*

Tony laughs, because yes, it is. 

*

“You could’ve stopped me,” Tony repeats hollowly. He knows what Steve means, but.

“Yes,” Steve says, then takes a deep breath. “But you know. The Purple Man. He—he forced both our hands.” 

Tony laughs, terrified. “Not really. I forced yours, I’m the one who didn’t let you stop me. I—I took off the armor for a reason. Just so you know, you should knock me out next time. Or kill me. I give you permission. There you go.” 

That brings horror to Steve’s face. “Tony, God. Don’t say that again. _Don’t._ ” 

“Why? You didn’t think I would stop, did you? Unless you did something permanent? You should, next time.” 

“No. Tony. Don’t blame yourself.” Steve shakes his head. Thing is, it doesn’t matter, because Tony still hurt Steve, and he’s hurting him now again too, consciously. “I believe there won’t be a next time. You were under his influence—”

“Yeah, under the influence,” Tony echoes. He should be better than that. “No, really, that’s fair, Steve. That’s.” It stings, and. “That’s fair.” He sees the hurt and guilt skittering across his face, because Steve never thought to guard himself from Tony, did he? “There’s always going to be a next time, Steve. And a last time. It’s kinda part of the job description. There’s not really a retirement plan, is there.”

It’ll be better. He should learn now. He learns fast. 

That’s why Tony knew it would work, knew Steve wouldn’t be able to stop him. Belatedly, it occurs to him that there’s something even worse. It’s Tony, of course there is. Realization guts him. 

Anguish is colored blue, the same color Tony painted his sky. This is what the sky looks like when it’s falling. 

Tony never could hold it up.

“Did you think I would? Were you waiting for me to stop?” 

Steve doesn’t answer immediately, which is answer enough. He grits his teeth. He seems to regret letting Tony do it. Good. “It wasn’t that.” 

Tony doesn’t want to think about what it was or wasn’t. 

“Maybe,” Tony supposes. “But right now, this is me.” He frowns. “And later, it could be me again.”

“You’re making this—“ Steve takes a deep breath. “No,” he says, and who’s he trying to convince when he reaches out for Tony with hesitation weighing his hand down? “We don’t punish people for their potential. You believe in the future, don’t you? Just like how I believe in you. We see the good things. We also see the bad, but precaution is part of the job. Every… everybody has darker thoughts.” 

It’s not okay. Not yet. After this, it will be. It’ll have to be. 

Seeing the best in Tony is exactly what Tony fears. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes,” Steve says simply. Tony doesn’t think Steve is proud of the fact, or comfortable about it, but this, he admits honestly. His hand comes up, a familiarly comforting gesture incoming.

Tony takes a few steps away from Steve, doesn’t let them touch. Steve shouldn’t feel the need to comfort Tony after what Tony has done to him. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, staying in his spot, sounding too damn sincere about that, sounding like a broken record playing on repeat, because Tony has played Steve like this, of course Steve is saying this shit. Tony would’ve guilt-tripped Steve into doing a hell of a lot more than just apologize. “I know it’s a lot. I should have—”

“Hey, now. If you say it’s not my fault, though it sorta really is, then it’s completely not yours, Cap,” Tony says, even manages a smile, hey, he should be proud. He plasters it on so there is some more distance between them. He hates doing this, especially when he wants Steve to care (Steve cares), but he can’t always get what he wants. 

Clearly. There’s so much proof it overwhelms.

Steve seems like he doesn’t know if he should close that distance. He seems to decide to respect Tony’s decision after a moment of heavy silence. Tony gets it, he’s grateful. Intention means nothing, the road to hell is paved with good ones, and Tony has always been the best builder around. 

Steve isn’t supposed to be on Tony’s path. 

“It’s not yours either, Iron Man,” Steve says, jaw clenching, unclenching. He has hardened his voice into something stronger, like the tone Captain America uses in battle, but it just sounds brittle to Tony. 

Stay away. Don’t touch, because anything Tony touches he breaks, and he always has wanted to touch Steve the most. He knows how Steve feels now.

It shouldn’t have been like this. But it is what it is. Better realize this earlier than later. 

Steve always has words to comfort others, always has undying faith even when the world is ending, and that happens a lot. It must be easier to save others than to save himself, right? Cap is a soldier, good at compartmentalizing even if that’s not a good thing to do. 

Steve isn’t good enough at compartmentalizing Tony away, though. Tony always bleeds through, and if he cuts off this heel, Steve won’t have this flaw anymore. 

It’s not that resynchronization isn’t possible. It’s the idea that it is possible that terrifies Tony. He can’t let that happen, because he knows that if he has to choose between the world and Steve, well, it isn’t much of a choice. 

At the end of the day, both of them would choose the world. 

It’s why when Tony was controlled, he didn’t follow Steve’s wishes anyway. It’s why Steve would’ve taken Tony out in the end anyway. It’s why, despite knowing why he might be Steve’s weakness, Tony has to hurt him right now anyway. Otherwise, their enemies will use Tony to get to Steve, and Tony can’t have that. 

Hesitation brings pain, and for what? The inevitable ending and then apology, anyway?

Right now, Steve’s words are lodged in his throat. Tony watches him swallow around them. Pain and worry and uncertainty crease his brows. There’s so much care and concern in his gaze that Tony can’t take it, doesn’t deserve to, not after what he’s taken from Steve, not after the pain Tony has left behind. 

If Steve could be bruised, he would be painted purple, the ghost of Tony’s touch haunting him. But he’s not. He’s capable of healing, and Tony can’t let himself be Steve’s bleeding wound. He needs to close himself off, shut Steve out. Cauterize it before Steve’s mind gets infected even more by Tony. 

This is better, Tony thinks. 

Really, Tony just wants Steve to hit him. 

That would make Tony feel better, but it wouldn’t help Steve, he thinks. Also, he doesn’t think Steve wants to touch Tony right now, he can’t possibly. Tony’s just sick for wanting to feel Steve’s warmth again, wanting to...

Stop caring, Tony wants to say, but he’s too weak to say it to Steve directly. He doesn’t even have the courage to leave right now. 

“Tony. It wasn’t you. Not… not just you,” Steve says finally. He’s powering through this, hoping Tony will answer, will meet him halfway, but there is no halfway. Not on this path. 

This will hopefully be enough to stop the truth, and he won’t be able to take it back. It’s an excuse Tony knows Steve will let him have, even if he might know this is a lie. Steve cares too much to do otherwise. He’s a good person. He doesn’t deserve Tony. Even if he thinks he wants to choose Tony now—

Tony needs Steve to be able to stop him the next time Tony does something. Anything. 

He’s a futurist, he’s building the future, but he’s never been the one the future is for. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t,” Tony lies. “It was the Purple Man.” 

He doesn’t look to his side, doesn’t want to see how long it takes for Steve to walk away. 

*

_“I’m never going to forget this either, Steve. I really love you, you know?”_

  



End file.
